


Three Men and Shit, We Got A Kid, Sammy

by Evanna_Adams



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural AU, Supernatural kid fic
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Destiel kid fic, Destiel!kid fic, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:24:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evanna_Adams/pseuds/Evanna_Adams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>coffeeisoxgen on tumblr is the reason for this. She wrote something about Three Men and A Baby and I had an awesome idea. I couldn't help myself. So here's a non-mpreg Destiel kid fic with lots of fluff and post S8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End Of The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> It's unbeta'd and written half asleep.

It was over now. All over.

Panting, Dean looked around. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and his gaze fell on Sam. Sam looked back, lying on the ground, bloody. He looked shocked and relieved. Huffing out a breath, Sam let his head fall on the ground, his eyes shutting close.

Dean turned his gaze to Castiel, kneeling beside the body of one of the angels, Hanael or something. Dean hadn’t bothered paying attention to the names. Castiel seemed to be praying, silently.

Fifteen seconds later, Castiel raised his eyes to meet Dean’s. A small smile broke out on Dean’s face. Castiel blinked, looking conflicted for a second before he returned a shy smile, ducking his head and following up with a sigh.

Dean still wasn’t daring to move, in case, it was the quiet before the storm. Well, the _bigger_ storm.

“It’s over,” Castiel murmured, rising to his feet and dusting his coat that made no difference to his shabby appearance.

Sighing, Castiel gave up and looked at the brothers, one lying on the ground and the other standing practically on his toes.

Castiel’s eyes confirmed what he had said. Dean moved a little. Nothing happened. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean moved over to stand over Sam.

“You okay, man?” he asked, kicking his side, gently, with his foot.

Grumbling and moving away from Dean’s foot, Sam cracked open one eye and gave a curt nod.

“Then, get up. We’ll sleep for two weeks in the batcave. Now, get up, Sammy,” Dean said, holding out a hand.

Sam groaned, but took Dean’s hand and just as he was about to stand, he cried out.

“I th-thought it was-just a dull pain. Shit, I might have fractured my foot, Dean,” Sam said, convulsing in pain, gingerly holding his left knee.

Suddenly Dean felt very guilty for leaving Sam to fend for himself as he went to help Castiel in fighting the angels off. He turned around thinking about asking Castiel to heal Sam. He stopped short when he saw just how battered and tired Castiel looked. There were shadows around his eyes and his eyes seemed less sharp than usual. His clothes were disheveled and dirty. They’d have to get him new clothes, Dean thought, offhandedly. And immediately, he didn’t want to be a dick to him. Castiel had done enough.

“Help me get him to the car?” he asked Castiel.

Castiel nodded and moved towards Dean to help Sam up.

With Sam in the backseat and Castiel riding shotgun, Dean drove as fast as he could go towards the motel. Sam’s breathing was irregular and harsh. Dean knew that he was trying his best not to cry out in pain. He didn’t want to alarm Dean further. Dean appreciated the concern, seeing he was so freaked out already. It was just a fracture, he knew. Curable. But he was fine and Castiel was fine but Sammy was hurt. His responsibility. Of course, he realized how much worse it could be, seeing as what they had just averted. Seeing as how Sam’s health was right before this… The hacking coughs. It sounded like Sam was dying. His responsibility…

“I-I think we need to go to the ho-hospital, Dean,” Sam said from the backseat, huffing out the last word.

Castiel turned to look at Dean, the beacon of reason and trust.

“Of course,” Dean grumbled, swerving the car at the next turn.

He knew the plans of cities like the back of his hand. Since Dean was ten, he had started to learn the roads and the maps and as he got older, it helped when he had to haul John back to the motel they were staying in and even the couple of victims he had dropped off to the hospitals for years of therapy.

Under five minutes, they were hauling Sam out and into the white building. It smelled, as usual, of bleach and sanitizers.

“My brother fell down and his leg got fractured,” he told the receptionist.

She nodded and held out the form, waving a couple of nurses in.

“Could you-?” Dean began, looking over at Castiel.

Letting the nurse lead Sam to the wheelchair, Castiel nodded. “You go on,” he said, taking the clipboard and the pen the lady was offering him.

Castiel saw Dean come out of the X-Ray room with the resident doctor trailing behind with his assistant. Dean looked grim and Castiel started to get even more harried than before. He had been getting weird looks, seeing the state of his clothes. Dean was getting similar looks. They were covered in dirt, blood that was not their own and bruises from head to toe.

Dean huffed out a sigh as he sat down beside Castiel.

“It’s okay,” he said in a small voice. “It’s a fracture and a damn bad one but it’s okay. It was the trauma and the sudden twinge in his muscles causing the pain. Christ, I thought-,” Dean huffed out a fake laugh. “I never thought Sam would be such a pansy.”

Castiel could read right through Dean. He was worried and looked occupied with something that was not entirely Sam.

“You’re worried,” Castiel stated, looking intently at Dean.

“Damn right, I am,” Dean said with a wry laugh.

“Not about Sam, Dean. Not only about him,” Castiel said, turning around properly. “It’s over. What’s wrong?”

“Is it… Really? I mean, Cas… I don’t know, man. Sammy… He’s my responsibility and he looked like he was… He was almost gone, man. I was losing my little brother and now it’s all okay. We get out with no scratches and Sammy gets out with just a fracture? You gotta agree, man, it’s all fucked up.”

Castiel sighed, looking away for a moment.

“I realized that it seemed all too good to be true but, Dean, look at the past few months. Every decision on our part or in the hands of another led to this point and I don’t know where you’re looking from, Dean, but to me it was hard. It was very hard to get to this point and I’m glad we got through unscathed because it didn’t seem like we would. Regardless, we made it through and here we are in blood and flesh,” he said, stilling a moment before taking Dean’s hand. “We’re okay, Dean. We’re as okay as we could be.”

Dean eyes widened as he felt the warm drag of Castiel’s rough thumb over his knuckles. His brain was shouting at him, reeling with all the thoughts and Castiel’s touch. He knew he should pull away and tell Castiel off but he didn’t have the heart to… Besides, it felt… Good, _safe._

Trust Castiel to not understand human etiquettes and make something so homo seem innocent and comforting.

Dean shook himself, internally and willed himself to answer Castiel.

“I… I hope so, Cas,” he replied, quietly, looking away.

Castiel dropped his hand and turned away to mirror Dean’s position. Dean missed the angel’s hand in his.

“I know so, Dean.”

~*~

A day and a half later that consisted of horrible hospital coffee and restless sleep in an uncomfortable chair for Dean, Sam was released from the hospital, hopped up on pain meds, and his foot in a cast.

“Dean,” Sam slurred, in a sleepy tone. “You are my brother… My bro,” –yawn- “And you’re the best… EST.”

“Sure,” Dean said, rolling his eyes as Castiel and he let Sam down onto his bed in the batcave.

“He seems to be slightly inebriated,” Castiel stated.

Dean snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean righted his shirt, looking at Sam already out like a light.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, quietly.

~*~

Dean grumbled, slapping his hand on the table in a rendition of ‘Highway to Hell’.

“Dean, stop,” Sam cried out. “Why don’t Cas and you get out for a while? Get fresh air?”

It was a week later to the time they had gotten Sam’s leg in a brace so that now he could walk.

“No can do,” Dean said, rolling his head backwards in the chair to stare up at the ceiling. “Baby needs an oil change and it’s too hot out.”

“Dean, I don’t care. Just get out of here before I kill you with that sword hanging on the wall behind me.”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in a twist, Samantha,” Dean said, clapping his shoulder and going out. “Come on, Cas,” he called the angel on the way out.

The angel in question clambered out of the kitchen with a deer-in-the-headlights look, covered in flour, powdered sugar and what looked like a yolk on his shoe. Castiel had taken off his trench coat and suit jacket and looked kind of naked in only the shirt. The coat really threw the man’s build out of proportions. Castiel was strong and had the build of a runner. Well, at least Jimmy did but it was Castiel’s body… Whatever.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, carefully, taking a step towards Castiel.

What kind of angel rituals required flour and eggs?

“Um… I was… Uh, baking,” Castiel replied, reddening.

“Baking! Cas, what in the Hell you baking?” Dean asked, pushing Castiel out of the way to enter the kitchen.

The kitchen was in an even bigger mess than Castiel was. The floor was covered in flour and had Castiel’s boot sized trails in it as he had travelled from the fridge to the counter. There were two broken eggs on the counter and one on the floor.

“I-I will clean it,” Castiel said, standing uncertainly in the doorway looking apologetically at Dean.

Dean would have said something but something else on the counter caught his eye. It was a print-out of one of those online cookery sites for apple pie.

“I thought about using my grace to make it but I-I thought it would be better if I could-“

Dean hugged Castiel, interrupting him.

Castiel stiffened for a second like in Purgatory but leaned into the touch, unlike in Purgatory. He fisted his hands in Dean’s jacket, awkwardly.

Pulling away, Dean looked at Castiel in the eyes, smilingly, for a moment before moving away. He picked up an apron, hanging behind the kitchen door and slipped it around Castiel’s neck.

“So where were you?” he asked, taking the whisk in hand.

~*~

They followed a dinner consisting of Dean’s homemade burgers with Castiel’s apple pie and it was the best thing Dean had ever tasted. He couldn’t stop the little moans that were forming in his mouth while eating the pie.

“Oh, get a room you two,” Sam said, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same.

“You gotta agree, it’s amazing,” Dean said, pointing at Sam with his fork.

“It’s a really good pie, Cas,” Sam agreed.

“I didn’t really make it. Dean did most of the work,” Castiel said, ducking his head, blushing.

“Ou Eeed,” Dean said, his mouth full of pie. Gulping, he continued, “I just guided you on the right path.”

Castiel smiled, shyly, digging into his own slice.

~*~

“Dean,” Castiel growled out, frustrated. “It won’t stay up.”

“Cas, shut up. Your talking is making it go soft.”

“I didn’t know speech had an effect on bakery items.”

“Ugh. Stop talking, Cas.”

“Okay, Dean.”

A few moments passed.

“But why won’t the jelly set, Dean?”

“We must have done something wrong. It’s been four friggin’ days,” Dean grumbled, throwing the jelly water into the bin. “I swear it’s like the easiest thing. God damn it, Cas, we even made a God damn cake from scratch that was awesome. I mean, it went right up there with pie,” Dean added, moving his hand over his head.

“I don’t know, Dean,” he answered, shuffling his feet and staring at the ground.

Castiel looked like he thought Dean was blaming him. Dean realized that that was most probably what Castiel thought. A weird desire rose up in the general area of his chest. He wanted to hug the man and comfort him. What the Hell… A little hugging here and there was fine and manly but not every day…

Instead he sidled up close to Castiel, right into his personal space, making him look up.

“Hey, it’s not your fault, okay, man,” he said as swee- ahem, gruffly – as possible. “I didn’t mean it that way. Besides, who cares about jelly! All I want is pie.”

Castiel smiled, slightly, looking fond of Dean. The look in Castiel’s eyes caught Dean unawares and he felt the heat creep up in his cheeks. He couldn’t stop looking into Castiel’s eyes. They were blue and huge and _beautiful_. Honestly, Dean shouldn’t be surprised but the blue eyes always have an effect on him. The stare broke only when they heard a crash from outside, both heads whipping towards the doorway.

“Sam!” Both men cry out at the same time, heading out.

Sam’s sprawled on the ground, pages from books fluttering and falling to the ground all around him.

“God damn it, you idiot!” Dean shouted, helping Sam up. “How many times do I have to tell you that call us when you need something from the higher shelves, you big goon!”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam replied, pulling out of Dean’s grip and limping to his chair.

It was a month after Sam had fractured his foot and the Gates of Hell had been closed shut with a loud bang. Sam’s leg was still in a brace and going by his occasional face scrunches, he’s still in pain. Dean and Castiel had assured him that he wouldn’t be bothering them if he called them to pick up a book from the top shelves but the huge moose of a man insisted on climbing the ladder himself.

“Sam, you can always call us. We’d be happy to get a book down for you. This way you are delaying your recovery and extending the period of time to look out for you,” Castiel said in that voice of infinite patience.

“Whatever he said,” Dean said, lamely and shrugging when Sam gave him a bitchface.

“Well if you two stopped being so _domestic_ , I’d feel better about calling one of you,” Sam said, fuming.

Dean looked at him as if he had been slapped.

“Come on, Cas. Let’s get out of here,” Dean said, stomping away, out to the Impala.

Sam glared after him. After a few moments of looking undecided, Castiel followed Dean.

~*~

“You’re angry,” Castiel murmured a while later. “Of course you are,” he added as though reprimanding himself for saying that in the first place.

Dean was impressed with the amount of progress Castiel had made in the past few weeks. He was faster on catching onto sarcasm and jokes. He was trying to catch up on movies with Dean and understood the pop culture references better. He was latching onto humanity better than Dean could have ever thought. He was developing little habits like shrugging and twitching his nose when something displeased him. Dean was happy that he could tell all the differences. They could read each other better than ever.

“He…,” Dean began. “Son of a-“ he slammed his fist onto the dashboard. “He thinks that I… That I’d ignore him in favor to you. I-I fed that… He is my little brother. Don’t get me wrong, Cas. I like hanging out with you, man but… Sammy… He-“

“He’s your top priority. I get it, Dean. I believe he is just tired of being stuck in the house.”

“Like I am not? Like you are not? I’m sure we must be irritating. Sammy with his flatulence and me! Oh, man. Eating with an open mouth. Blasphemy. Everything angels hate in a little package. Why are you still here, Cas?”

Dean had easily steered off from the topic of conversation by spouting something that had been bothering him for a while but had never expected to ask. He was expecting – and half hoping – for Castiel to pop away.

But he didn’t.

Instead he placed a warm hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean. I… Heaven may have accepted me back but I… I’ve never been happier than I am now. I enjoy the little things I get to do with you two, Dean. I prefer humanity. I prefer the mundane. And I love cooking for you, Dean,” he said, a small smile lighting up his features at the last line.

Dean stared at Castiel. His heart was doing these little jumps. He wanted Castiel to stay but… He would never believe that Castiel loved it. He thought it was what he was used to now or that he felt too uncomfortable upstairs and was just avoiding. But to think that Castiel actually enjoyed baking and all the bitching. The fights.

“Dean!” Castiel cried out, removing his hand to grab the steering wheel.

While Dean had been busy having a staring match with the angel, the car had swerved off the road.

“Woah,” Dean said, eloquently.

~*~

At the time Dean had slammed his hand into the dashboard, Sam had mirrored the stance on the table, making the old wooden table creak slightly and the coffee cup inch closer to the edge.

Sam knew that it was nothing personal that Dean spent so much time with Castiel but he just missed being able to move around.

He wasn’t blind, he saw how the two looked at each other and often on innocent water runs at night(even though Dean had put a jug on his bedside table), he stopped outside Dean’s (and now, Castiel’s too) door to hear what they were talking about or if their thoughts were at all incriminating. Sam was half disappointed and half relieved to find that he had been wrong. The two obviously liked each other and their relationship ran way deeper than innocent friendship. He believed that they had crossed that path when Castiel had gripped Dean tight and raised him from Perdition.

Sam liked Castiel. He really liked him. The weight he added to the conversations and the food he helped put on the table. The angel was one of the Winchesters’ closest friends and part of the family. Besides, Castiel took Sam’s side in arguments. Mostly.

Dean and Castiel worked for each other. They were both broken and capable of understanding the extent of damage. Castiel could call Dean out on his bullshit and Dean could teach Castiel everything human. The thing was, they were already doing this. They _had_ been doing this since a long time.

He sighed, thinking of whatever he had said to Dean. He’d have to apologize. In his defense, he was tired of being incapable of doing small tasks and hated breaking Dean and Castiel’s meetings in the kitchen.

He rested his head on his arms, waiting for his brother to come back.

~*~

“Wake up, Sammy,” Dean called, banging on the table, right beside Sam’s ear.

Sam woke with a start and winced as his neck cracked.

“Ugh, what time is it?”

“Eight. Cas is serving dinner. Come on, you moose,” Dean said, turning around.

Dean was trying to pretend as though everything was normal but Sam could read right through the act.

“Dean! Wait,” he called out, scrambling to his feet.

Dean was standing a step down from Sam and Sam ended up practically towering over his elder brother.

“I gotta help, Cas, man. Be quick,” Dean said, offhandedly.

He cleared his throat and climbed the step to be able to reach the normal height difference between the brothers.

“I’m sorry, man,” Sam started. When he saw Dean opening his mouth and raising his hand, he interrupted him, “Let me say it. Look I appreciate everything the two of you have been doing and you, Dean… You’ve been doing it forever. Thank you, Dean. I don’t say it often. But, just- I’m tired, man. I’m tired of being cooped up here like an invalid. I don’t envy you spending time with Cas either. I like that he can keep you occupied so that you don’t interrupt my reading,” – short, undecided laugh – “So, uh, yeah…”

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m sorry too,” Dean said, trying to be unconcerned but he seemed happier and lighter now.

As Dean was turning around, Sam added, “Hey, Dean. You know even if you had fractured your foot, Cas would still chose to spend time with you.”

Dean frowned at his little brother but without a word, headed towards the dining table.

With a little effort of making the needles and pins feel leave his legs, Sam followed.

~*~

Castiel had made pie again. Blueberry this time.

Sated and happy, Dean leaned back in chair. He burped lightly at which Sam shoved him.

“Ew, man,” Sam said, wrinkling his nose.

“Sam you got no ground to say that, y’know,” Dean told him sternly pointing a finger at him.

Sam rolled his eyes but kept quiet.

Dean’s phone started to buzz. It was an unknown number. The number of unknown calls had decreased in the past month, so, Dean was wary about this call. He picked it up anyway.

“Dean?” a strikingly familiar woman’s voice asked.

“One and only.”

The woman heaved a sigh as though she had searched long and hard for his number. Maybe she had.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. You hid yourself well,” she commented, cementing Dean’s doubts.

“Who is this?”

“Uh… Cassie.”

“Cassie! What happened?” Dean’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull.

“Hi, Dean,” she said, lamely. “How have you been?”

“Busy. What about you?”

“Ah… Busy, myself.”

“Why did you call? Ghost or ghoul botherin’ you?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that… It’s worse. Much worse.”

Dean’s breath caught in throat, imaging the worst case scenarios but nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

“I… Dean when you were in Athens… The last we met… I got… There’s no easy way to say this. You have an eight year old daughter.”

Dean stayed quiet.

“I-I know it’s a lot to take in. The second I realized… I’ve been trying to find your number since that moment, Dean but I didn’t locate you until now when my path crossed with a hunter you know, Garth, is it?”

“Garth,” Dean confirmed.

“Yes, him…”

“Why are you telling me?”

“For one, you should know and for the other… Well… Again, there’s no easy way to say this… I-I’m dying, Dean.”

Silence.

“I have fourth stage brain tumor and… I don’t have much time left… My mother died a couple of years ago… Mary has no one left.”

“Mary?” Dean asked, hesitantly.

“Mary Jane Winchester. I’m sure you don’t remember… But,” she sounded sheepish, now. “The first time around. Well, once, right after we… You know, had sex, you said, you wanted to name our daughter Mary. Jane was my grammy’s name.”

“I like it,” Dean said in a small voice.

“Thank I guess,” she said. Sighing, she continued, “Could you maybe meet me soon? We need to make arrangements…”

“I’ll be there,” he said, shortly.

He hung up.

Two pairs of curious eyes were boring into his skull.

“Dean?” Sam asked, almost scared.

“I… Sammy… It was Cassie… You remember? Well… Yeah… So… The last time we met, we…” Deep breath. “I have a daughter, Sammy and the mother of my daughter is dying.”


	2. Cassie, I'll See You, I Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's channeling his inner alcoholic, Sammy's all knowing and Castiel loves baking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry. I know I keep getting delayed... Um, I'm not in a very good place right now and writing is trying my patience. I'm writing something as a present and I'll be writing a chapter for Bulletproof Love next. I got something for you guys in that chapter. ;)
> 
> You know what, though, when I call Sam Sammy or Castiel Cas in prose, I feel like I'm stealing a very important thing from Dean. But if I write it otherwise, it feels like I'm part of their family. It's 3.24 AM here. I'm nightblogging on ao3.

“Sam, have you seen Dean?” Castiel asked, leaning against the door frame of the library which was Sam’s regular haunts.

“Hmm,” Sam replied, distractedly. He didn’t look up from the book he was reading.

Sam was usually so engrossed in the book he was reading that he would reply with an answer that popped up first in his head. Dean would stomp into the room and shake him until he did listen. Castiel had a different, gentler approach. He’d stand there, casting his shadow on the book and Sam would eventually look up with a sigh.

“Yes, Cas?” Sam asked, sighing.

“Have you seen Dean?” Castiel asked, triumphant.

“No. He won’t talk to me but he took a six pack with him a while ago,” Sam replied, sighing.

“He must be outside then… Thank you, Sam.”

Castiel turned around.

“Cas?” Sam called, thoughtfully.

“Yes?”

“Take care of him, will you?”

Castiel let small frown cross his face. Standing up straight, he smiled and said, “Of course, Sam.”

Sam smiled back, and when Castiel turned to look at him again, he was already buried in the book.

~*~

It was three days later to the call and Dean had spent every moment inebriated and on the top of the mound under which the bunker lay. The place was isolated and more often than not, Dean saw a lost dog and once even a deer. They didn’t come near him. Why would they. They could smell the alcohol and failure on him. If Dean were them, he’d run when he saw him. If Dean were them, maybe he’d be happy…

He had an eight year old daughter and a dying ex-girlfriend. How had he even dared thinking that his troubles were over. It was just one thing after the other. No place to rest; not even a moment to breathe.

Dean remembered when he was three years old and his parents had taken him for the Fourth of July celebrations in a nearby park. Mary had put a bright yellow colored with red flowers blanket on top of the hood of the Impala. John had fetched the picnic basket from the back. He remembered how his dad had gone out that morning to look for the perfect spot for watching the fireworks because, he had said, Mary deserved the best. He found the perfect place near a thicket of trees in the park. Not many people were there.

Dean had never seen Mary that happy as she baked an apple pie and made all the other things she wanted for the picnic. She hummed during baking; she always hummed.

They had settled on the hood of the car, Dean between them. John and Mary had leaned back. They had chattered idly waiting for the fireworks, interrupted by Dean pointing out the things he saw. Mary had ruffled his hair and John cheered for him.

Dean smiled at the memory.

What had struck him most at the age of three was when his parents kissed when the fireworks started. It was sweet and friendly. When they looked at each other, they smiled and kissed again. They didn’t notice Dean looking at them with awe. It wasn’t the first time he had seen them kiss but it felt beautiful under the dancing lights on their face. He had turned around and crawled into the niche between them, burying his face in Mary’s stomach. He felt John’s chest rumble with laughter behind him. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be like his dad when he grew up. He wanted a perfect woman to marry and to work to provide for her.

Scoffing, Dean drank till he could only see his mother’s laughter under the dancing lights.

~*~

Castiel saw Dean’s legs hanging over the awning of the bunker. He had taken a liking to the place over the three days. He didn’t like to stray far from the bunker where he couldn’t protect Sam, and to some extent, Castiel. He didn’t like company or the musty rooms.

Castiel carefully climbed up the side of the hole in the ground that they call their home, wrapping his trench coat around him.

“Whatcha doin’ ‘ere?” Dean slurred.

“Looking for you, of course,” Castiel replied, sitting beside Dean.

He took the beer bottle from Dean’s loose grasp and puts it to a side. He pushed the six pack away from Dean’s reach.

“You are inebriated,” he stated, looking at Dean.

Dean hadn’t shaved since three days and it seemed as though he hadn’t had a bath either.

“No shi’, Sher-Sher… Sherry!”

Castiel sighed, taking Dean’s chin in his hand and moving Dean’s face side to side. He leaned in to smell him. He smelled of sweat and alcohol. Castiel couldn’t put a finger on which kind of alcohol because he smelled of all kinds.

“Shit dude. Ge’ away frome,” Dean said, pushing against Castiel’s shoulder and attempting to get up. “Das gay. Y’know I’m not-not _gay._ I like chicks.”

“I know, Dean,” Castiel said, helping Dean up and stand straight. “You should get back inside,” he said, sighing and getting him to walk down the mound.

Dean resisted. “I don’ wanna go,” he whined. “I wanna stay an-an’ wait for Bambi.”

“You can wait for Bambi later, Dean. Please come inside with me.”

Dean noticed the beer behind Castiel and made a lunge for them but Castiel caught his arm to keep him still, almost hugging him to his body. With one hand, he forced Dean to look at him. As Castiel’s face swam into view, Dean forgot his scuffle for the beer.

“Can we please go back to your room, Dean?”

Dean looked at Castiel for a moment, squinting as though figuring out Castiel’s motive. Castiel squinted back.

“Okay,” Dean replied, finally, huffing a breath.

Castiel rolled his eyes and wrapped Dean’s arm around his shoulders. He wrapped his own around Dean’s waist and assisted him down the steep.

They made it to the hallway with their room before Dean turned around and cupped Castiel’s shoulders with his palms, looking desperate.

“Will ya help me, Cas?” he slurred. “Will y’save me again?” He hiccupped, stopping for a moment.

Something inside Castiel broke at the desperation and helplessness in Dean’s eyes. He grimaced at his own inability to fix things and led Dean to his room. Dean hung his head and let himself be guided. He let Castiel take off his coat and sat down to let him take off his shoes. He promptly lied down after that and snuggled under the blanket as Castiel put it over him. He grabbed Castiel’s hand before he left.

“Don’ go,” he garbled.

Castiel pried Dean’s fingers and away and quietly settled in a chair beside the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean nodded and huddled back in to sleep.

Before he fell asleep, all he could think about was how Mary would have loved Castiel.

~*~

Dean woke up with his mouth tasting like ass and a giant headache. Grunting, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. As soon as he sat, he realized what a huge mistake it was.

Somebody had a hand on his back and was holding a bucket under his mouth as he puked.

“Easy,” Castiel murmured, rubbing his back.

Dean panted and looked up, his vision swimming.

“What?” he asked, hoarsely.

“You had a drink too many.”

Dean nodded and groaned when his head felt like it would fall off.

“Here,” Castiel said, handing Dean two aspirins and holding a glass of water.

Dean swallowed the aspirin and let Castiel help him drink the water, after his first attempt.

“Thanks, Cas,” he grunted, lying back down gently.

“It’s no trouble,” Castiel said, patting his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes; Dean facing the wall and Castiel looking at Dean, his hand still on Dean’s shoulder. Dean didn’t shake it off. It seemed to be helping in fending off the shivers wracking his body.

“I thought I could hold my alcohol,” Dean rasped, staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t think anyone can hold their alcohol after drinking continuously for three days.”

“You can,” Dean said, turning to look at Castiel. “You’re an angel of the Lord.”

“I’m hardly an angel, Dean.”

“Is that why you won’t heal, Sam? Because you’re ‘hardly’ an angel?” Dean asked, unable to keep the venom out of his voice.

Castiel pursed his lips and got up to sit in his chair.

“Is it because you feel guilty? Tell me, Cas… Is it because your entire family is trapped up there and you’re alone here?” Dean asked, his voice getting stronger.

Castiel refused to meet his eyes.

“Is it because you’re stuck with us?” He took a deep breath to calm himself. It didn’t work. “TELL ME! IS IT BECAUSE OF ME? IS IT BECAUSE YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME ANY-”

“NO!” Castiel shouted, standing up, an ice cold fire in his eyes. “No! I am not an angel anymore because my grace is weaning! The second I closed the Gates to Heaven, most of grace lost its power and I’ve steadily been losing contact with the Host! I say I’m not an angel because I’m not! I’m turning human!”

Castiel took a deep breath, even his breathing sounded self-righteous. He looked away from Dean and crossed his arms.

“I have apologized over and over,” he began, quieter now but not bereft of disapproval and hurt. “I have tried to tell you in ways that I can, that I’m not leaving again.” He laughed wryly, raising his arms in defeat and turned around. “Dean, I don’t have anywhere to go. Soon, I’ll be completely human… I- I was given a choice. I could pick Heaven and close the Gates behind me or I could pick… Pick you and Sam, and shut the Gates to Heaven for me forever. Well, I’m sure my choice is clear. I picked my family.”

He turned around to offer Dean a wry smile and walked out, leaving Dean feeling like the hugest ass in the entire universe.

Groaning, he fell in back into a troubled sleep.

~*~

Dean woke up to the same feeling but with lesser intensity. He threw up again in the bucket lying near his bed. Popping in another aspirin, he got up slowly and padded over to the bathroom.

Showered and brushed, Dean felt much better as he heads over to the library. It seemed like the peace grounds at the moment. He knows he’ll find Sam there. Dean’s sure that the kid sleeps in the library these days. He feels bad suddenly as he realizes that it’s been three days since he last helped Castiel take Sam to the room. Sam tries to be macho about it but he appreciates the help.

“Hey,” Sam says, looking up.

It’s the first time in days that Sam has acknowledged somebody walking into the library. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“What’s up?” Sam asked with a small smile.

“Hungover,” he replied, his voice gravelly.

Sam laughed and nodded his head. “I bet.”

“I thought you were going Hermione Granger on the library’s ass. To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention on me?” Dean asked, mock innocently.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean…”

“Ooh, you’re serious,” Dean teased.

He knew what Sam wanted to talk about but he honestly wasn’t interested in talking about his feelings. He had already screwed it up with Castiel.

“Shut up and listen to me. You need to go. Go to her. You… You don’t know how long she has. I know… It’s difficult. I can’t even imagine, Dean. No! Let me talk… Just listen me out and then you can kick a hole in the wall.

“It’s hard and it takes time… But you don’t have time. It’s stage four, you told me. Look, man, I’ve seen you go lengths for family and that little girl, Mary, is family. They’ll tow her away to some orphanage if you don’t go…”

Dean didn’t say anything but grit his teeth and stared at the table.

“Dean, I know you’re worried about being like dad,” Sam started, leaning in. “You’re not dad, Dean. You’re nothing like him… I know you, man. I knew dad, Dean. You’re like mom. You’re kind, you’re-you’re going to be an amazing dad, Dean. Remember Ben? He loved you.”

“Sam, that was different,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“How was it different, Dean? Except that you have me? You have Cas, too, man. Stop being worried. She’s your daughter. And Cassie needs you too, Dean.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He knew he was running out of time. Being drunk was best. At least he had no idea about what day it was.

“Will you come with me?” he asked meekly.

“I… I really want to but my leg…” Sam said, apologetically. “But you can take Cas along.”

“No,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“We… We had a fight and you need someone to look after you.” Dean shifted uncomfortably, scratching his neck. He refused to meet Sam’s eyes.

“Apologize to him,” Sam said, frowning at Dean.

“Why are you assuming that I was wrong?” Dean asked, defensively.

Sam raised an eyebrow, huffing a laugh. Dean grimaced at his brother.

“I will, but what about you?” Dean finally grumbled, conceding.

“I can take care of myself,” Sam said, giving Dean a bitchface.

“Sam,” Dean said, using his mom voice.

“I’ll call Charlie or Kevin, alright?”

Dean was gleeful when it seemed to work. It always worked.

“Good,” he told Sam, winking at him. Sam grumbled under his breath.

~*~

Dean finds Castiel in one go. He’s in the kitchen. Castiel has taken a liking to cooking, especially baking. When Castiel is distressed, he makes cookies. Lots of them. The kitchen was fragrant with cookies.

Dean saw a tray of loft house cookies on his left and choco-chip on his right. His mouth was watering. He wanted to steal ~~a couple of~~  one cookie.

The best part was that they were absolutely delicious. Over the top delicious.

With his nose quivering with delight, he walked forward into the kitchen, looking for Castiel between the stacked supplies and trays of cookies.

Castiel was bent over in front of the oven, glaring at it. Dean was pretty sure that the heat in Castiel’s glare was responsible for the baking rather than the oven equipment.

“Hi?” Dean asked, walking closer to Castiel, squinting fearfully. He half expected Castiel to throw punches.

Castiel turned to look around, schooling his features to a blank look. But he can’t stop his large eyes from betraying his emotions. Dean has always been good at reading him as good as Castiel and Sam are at reading him. He seems part sad, part fearful and all parts defensive.

He lets a frown cross his features, waiting for Dean to speak.

“I, um… I’m sorry, Cas. I was hungover.”

Castiel nods and turns around. “It’s alright,” he says quietly.

“Cas…”

“Yes, Dean?” he asks, his tone hard.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright, Dean. I forgive you,” he said, flippantly. But there was just a smidgen of scope in there.

Dean grabbed it. “Look at me. Please?”

Castiel turned around, hesitantly, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “Sam asked the first day in. I told him I couldn’t heal him without killing myself.”

Dean felt like an even bigger ass than was possible. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He realized he needed a shave.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I… I shouldn’t have said all that but you know… You know me well. My mouth runs without my brain sometimes.” He grimaces. What an argument…

“Dean it had been on our mind for a while. You just voiced it.” He said it matter of factly, frowning but only in confusion. He had expected it, it seemed. He finally looked up at Dean, trying to understand Dean; taking him apart layer by layer.

Dean sighed, shuddering once under the inspection. “I-I knew you would have healed Sam, if you could. I just didn’t know why,” he said, lamely, breaking the eye contact this time.

Castiel nodded. “Of course,” he murmured, turning around again.

“You’re our family too, Cas,” he said, quietly, before almost fleeing from the room.

After all, emotions and Dean don’t go together.

~*~

For dinner, they had cookies. All courses. There wasn’t enough space in the kitchen for much else and almost all supplies had been put into making the cookies.

Castiel apologized profusely for it but Sam and Dean just shook their heads, stuffing their mouths with the delicious cookies. They felt like five year olds given a day off from eating vegetables. Dean grinned blissfully after desert of loft house cookies was over.

“So what time are you guys heading out?” Sam asks, bursting the temporary bubble.

Dean knew he had to return to mother Earth but why so soon. He bites his lip, realizing that he hasn’t asked Castiel yet.

“What? Where?” Castiel asks, frowning.

“Um, Cas. I was meaning to ask before… But would you like to accompany me tomorrow? I’m… Uh, going to… them,” he says, frowning and scratching his head and ignoring Sam’s bitchface.

Castiel nods. “Of course, but what about Sam?”

Dean takes a moment to let it sink in that Castiel is ready to go with him. He didn’t even hesitate or think about it. He almost made Dean sound like the idiot for even thinking that Castiel would do anything other than accept. It’s humbling.

“I’ll call Charlie or Kevin,” Sam replies, waving his huge hand.

Castiel nods again. “Alright. At what time do you expect me?”

Dean reddens under the scrutiny. These two people’s judgment is the only one that matters. He doesn’t look up, mumbling incoherently to himself, pretending to decide a time.

“You should start at five,” Sam says, taking the wheel as usual. “You’ll be there by night if you don’t stop anywhere.”

“I’m not intending to stop anywhere,” Dean mumbles.

“It’d be best if we reach as soon as possible,” Castiel agrees.

So the decision is made.

~*~

Dean looked up at the house that he hasn’t seen in years. He hasn’t the woman inside in years. He had forgotten about her. So much had happened between meeting her and now.

When Dean had first met her, he was twenty four years old. She was twenty one and in college, getting her journalism degree. Oh, she was smart and beautiful. She was everything Dean wasn’t and she was dating him. Dean remembered the way she looked then. Dark hair, red lips, smiling over her drink at him.

He remember when he met her again two years later and how she her eyes had changed from wondrous and excited to serious and focused.

_Cassie I'll see you, I will._ The words haunted him now. How his priorities had changed.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Castiel. He brought him back to the real world, with a reassuring squeeze.

Dean sighed and looked at the door. He rang the bell.

It was different, without the FBI clothes, the badge, and another story to chase. The FBI uniform set him apart from the others. It felt like a shelter. This way, in his plaid and jacket; he felt naked and vulnerable.

The door opened and a little girl stood, looking up at them.

She was beautiful. Long blonde hair mussed up, her green eyes shone as she smiled at Dean. She was the spitting image of Mary Winchester.

Dean realized that there was a tear running down his face, as he took the hand the little girl offered to him. She tugged him inside and led him to up the stairs.

Mary Jane was leading Dean up to Cassie’s room. He quickly wiped the tear off his face.

Cassie Robinson was a corpse of the woman that she used to be. Her eyes were shining when she looked up at Dean. She looked him all over, drinking him in.

“You’re not dreaming this,” a deep voice rang out.

Dean jumped. He had forgotten that Castiel was here. He looked odd, just standing there. Castiel shuffled on his feet, uncomfortably as all eyes turned on him.

“This,” Dean said, finding his voice. It was small and slightly squeaky. He cleared his throat. “This is my friend, Cas,” he announced to the room.

“Hello, Cas,” Mary Jane said, letting go of Dean’s hand and taking Castiel’s.

Castiel looked even more flustered than before. She tugged him away from the room.

“Be careful,” Cassie called after her.

She looked up at Dean. He gulped. He walked forward towards her, wiping his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans. She smiled fondly at him. Her eyes were wondrous and huge again; shiny.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” she said.

Dean made a non-committal sound and looked away from her.  For the first time he looked at the room. Every flat surface, except the floor, was packed full of medicine containers. There was a rod with a glucose packet on a side. There were other hospital things that Dean didn’t know the names of.

“A nurse… Actually my friend,” Cassie started. Dean realized that her voice was the same but her tone a little world weary and worn around the edges. “He’s a nurse. He comes in the morning. Of course, I can’t afford most of these things, what with MJ’s school fee… He helps. He cuts his shift and helps me.” She smiled warmly.

Dean smiled back, a little hesitant but he remembered how easy it used to be to talk to her. He remembered everything.

“You had told me once that you will come to meet me again,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

He coughed, embarrassed.

“Thank you for keeping your promise.”


	3. Goodbye Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean spends time with Cassie and MJ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. It's not beta'ed and it's so late but I started a new college and gah, damn. I've been busy and sad in equal amounts. I haven't able to write in more than a week. :(

jThe day at the Robinson house began at six in the morning when Nathan, Cassie’s nurse friend, let himself inside the house and made breakfast. He made all the preparations for the day. Putting food into Tupperware, he took it up to Cassie’s room for the rest of the day and cleared the ones from the day before. He cleaned her room in general and got her bathed and into new clothes. Giving her the medication, he sat with her for an hour, just chatting and making her laugh. Before leaving with MJ, he always made sure that she had everything in reach. At two in the afternoon, MJ returned with her friend’s mother and would take care of her mom. At eight in the night, they’d say grace and eat their food.

~*~

Someone was talking in hushed tones around him. He chalked it up to being the water and the trees rustling.

The breeze ruffled Castiel’s trenchcoat and Dean grinned at the familiarity.

“You know, Cas, you can sit down for your first lesson,” Dean said, looking up at Castiel.

Castiel smirked at Dean and after a blink, he was sitting on a recliner similar to Dean’s. Dean grinned out at the lake around them. Leaning over to the icebox beside him, Dean pulled out two beers and offered one to Castiel. Castiel scrunched his nose, taking the bottle.

“It smells of fish,” he said, bringing the bottle closer to smell it and disgustedly, holding it away from himself.

“Well, I just got one icebox,” Dean replied, embarrassedly, trying to hide it by shrugging.

Castiel chuckled and flipped the metal cap with his super strength.

“Hey, no fair,” Dean grumbled, pouting slightly.

Castiel chuckled and flipped off the cover off of Dean’s beer as well. Dean grimaced at him, unimpressed. Castiel just grinned, cleaning the top to try and take the smell of the fish off it. Dean grimaced as the first sip tasted like raw fish but sting of the beer was still there. Gradually, the fish smell and taste weaned off.

“Are you going to teach me or are we going to just sit here?” Castiel asked, a little cheeky lilt to his voice.

Dean laughed, turning to look over at Castiel. “Sure, just stand up,” Dean said, throwing the bottle in the direction of the lake.

He noticed a second to late that the bottle had frozen a foot over the water and was making its way towards him.

“Holy shit!” he shouted, ducking sideways, his arms raised over his face.

Castiel started to laugh, hovering the bottle to rest over the ice box.

“Cas, you manipulative son of a bitch,” Dean panted, glaring at him.

Castiel just grinned wide and whole. Dean smiled inspite of himself. He looked so free and unburdened that Dean’s heart clenched.

“You shouldn’t dirty the world you fought so hard to save, Dean,” Castiel told him, stoically.

Dean nodded. “Fair point. Now, stand up. We’re going to add fishing to your skills among humor that you recently discovered.”

“I learnt from the best,” Castiel answered, standing up and making their recliners vanish.

“Dean!” Castiel whispered, furiously, his face an inch from Dean’s.

Dean jolted awake, almost smashing head first into Castiel. He blinked a couple of times before the room swam into view. He was in Cassie’s room where, apparently, he had fallen asleep in an awkward position in the chair.

Cassie was grinning wide at him. She almost looked her young self when she smiled this way, but somehow even better. There was an unfamiliar man standing next to the bed, getting pills out of their containers and counting them on his palm. Dean guessed that he was Nathan.

“Good morning,” Cassie greeted, turning slightly in her bed to face him.

“Morning,” Dean croaked, scrubbing a hand over his face.

He straightened in the chair, grimacing at the kinks in his spine. Stretching, he heard the pops in his neck and back.

“Sorry, I fell asleep here,” he murmured, smiling at Castiel who handed him a steaming cup of black coffee. It was just how he liked it. “Did you make it?” he asked Castiel.

Castiel smiled and nodded. “I didn’t- couldn’t,” he corrected, looking sidelong at Nathan. “Sleep.”

“Thanks,” Dean replied, gulping down the coffee and coughed as it scalded his throat.

“Slow, Dean,” Cassie reprimanded in what was obviously her mom voice.

Dean stared at her and she stared back. Dean had to bow out of the competition. Apparently, being a mom meant you had immense pools of patience and staring-into-acquiescence abilities. She grinned at him, knowing she had won. He grumbled and drank his coffee slower.

“Sit up, Cas,” Nathan said, looking up finally and sighing.

Castiel looked up, confused. “I am standing.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed. Cassie joined in, her laugh wheezy.

“He meant me, darling,” Cassie told him, taking Nathan’s proffered hand and sitting up slowly.

Dean got up to keep a strong hand between her shoulder blades. He was creeped out by how much of her bones he could feel. He swallowed thickly, watching her as she swallowed the tablets with a glass of water courtesy Castiel. Nathan and Dean let Cassie back down after a couple of moments.

“You’re Dean, right?” Nathan asked, holding a hand out.

Dean shook his hand. He smiled at the strong grip. “The one and only.”

Nathan smiled, rolling his eyes. “Can you come with me for a second?” he asked, nodding his head towards the door. “I need help.”

Cassie huffed at him. “I’m not a child, you know. I know you want to talk to him about my condition, dumbass.”

Nathan grinned at her and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “You always were smart, Cassie,” he said, squeezing her frail hand.

She slapped his stomach, halfheartedly. “Go on, now.”

Nathan grinned again and led Dean out. Castiel shifted uncomfortably, following Dean with his eyes. Dean smiled reassuringly and gestured towards the chair beside Cassie. He followed Nathan out and down the stairs. Nathan started to pack MJ’s lunch.

“Dean, I know you’ve been away for a while,” he began, puffing as the tiffin box closed on his finger. “And Cassie’s in pretty bad shape. I can’t sugarcoat because it’s too hard. I’m too close to her. She has Glioblastoma multiforme. It’s a sort of brain cancer.” He turned around; his eyes rimmed red. He wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “She started medication at third stage. It was already too late. We tried…” He huffed a wry laugh. “We tried so hard. But it metastasized and they sent her back. They-“ He laughed dryly again, finally meeting his eyes. They were brimming with hurt and pain. “They told her that she required hospice care. With absolutely no family and one child! No job, even! She was supposed to get hospice care. I tried to convince them… Obviously, couldn’t. Actually, there wasn’t much they could do… I warred with myself about letting my job go but I decided I could help her. I’m trying, Dean and it will only be better with you here to take care of them.”

Dean opened his mouth and closed it. He did for a couple of minutes like a goldfish. He looked away from Nathan. His eyes held no judgment and that just somehow made it a lot worse. He sucked in a deep breath. Nathan was close to him in a second, patting his back.

“It’s hard. I know. I’ve known her a year and I know. I’d take MJ but Cassie wants you to make the choice. Besides, man, I’m not the one for kids. I’m a workaholic,” Nathan continued.

Only Castiel ever stands this close to Dean, he realized and took a step back, nodding. “Thanks, Nate,” he expressed, continuing to nod his head. “I really mean it. I didn’t- know about this. Else I would have come earlier but… Uh, could you send Cas down here? I mean the guy Cas.”

Nathan gave him a weird look and nodded once. He took the tiffin box up, shouting instructions to MJ on the way. Before Castiel came down, though, MJ was there. She was dressed in a pretty red dress, playing the frayed edge of the ribbon around its waist. The red little boots on her feet squeaked against the polished wood as she moved it incessantly, stealing glances at Dean.

Dean bent in front of her.

“Are you my daddy?” she questioned, softly.

“I… I’m your father, yes,” he answered, nodding. “MJ, I’ll tell you one thing,” he murmured, putting his large hand on her little shoulder. “You call me Dean. You call me Dean until you think I deserve to be called ‘dad’.”

“How will I know?” she asked, simply, tilting her head that reminded Dean too much of Castiel.

“You’ll just know,” he promised with a smile.

She smiled back at him. “Will you take me with you after… After mommy?”

There was no question in Dean’s mind. He wasn’t leaving her in an orphanage and Nathan had made it clear that he couldn’t take care of her. He bit the inner side of his cheek, thinking about how amazingly Sam could handle children.

“Only if you want to.”

“I don’t know,” she replied, truthfully.

“Take your time,” he reassured with a smile.

She nodded and walked quietly towards the door, waiting for Nathan. Dean straightened and saw Castiel waiting for him at the bottom stair. He smiled awkwardly at being caught.

“Can we take a walk outside?” Dean asked, ignoring Castiel’s apparent discomfort.

Castiel nodded and followed Dean out the back door. Dropping the idea of the walk altogether, Dean fell onto the plush swing by on the porch.

“You gonna join me or what?” Dean asked, patting the place beside him.

Castiel nodded, jerkily again. Dean, offhandedly, thought that everyone was suddenly turning into Noddy around here. The swing creaked a little out of disuse as Castiel sank into it. Even though he had started wearing ‘normal people clothes’ on Dean’ insistence in the past few months, he still held himself as though he was wearing the trench coat. He did defy Dean’s orders sometimes by wearing it.

“I had a dream that I was teaching you how to fish,” Dean sighed, looking out at the dying garden.

“The only time I went fishing, my brother asked me not to step on ‘that’ fish,” he said, complete with the quote marks.

Dean chuckled lightly, observing Castiel from the side of his eyes. “Well, I’d teach you how to fish properly. With the bait and stuff. We’d catch a huge fish and cook it. You could try that fish recipe you found two week ago.”

Castiel smiled softly, staring at the dry grass. “I’d like that,” he agreed.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. It was comfortable but the thoughts were brewing to the rim inside Dean.

“It’s fourth stage.”

“I know.”

“It meta-meta…”

“Metastasized. I know, Dean.”

“Cas, she’s dying.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“I… I can’t have this on me.”

Castiel turned around and rested a palm right over his mark on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, it’s not on you. It happened. You are not responsible for everyone you meet. It is not your fault that the treatment did not work. It is not your fault that you didn’t know about your child until now.”

Dean wrung his hands, glaring at them. “Why can’t I save her?”

“As much as I would like to have an answer for every question you ask, I don’t. I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry I can’t heal her.”

Dean sighed and shifted in his seat to face the garden. He wanted to say that Castiel had nothing to be sorry about. He had never been one for feelings and emotions. That was Sam’s job, not his. He was the ‘bad cop’. Always. Because it was easier for him. Feelings made everything messy and Dean didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it. So, he vowed on silence, feeling Castiel’s shoulder brush against his.

Besides, Castiel already knew, didn’t he. Even without his mojo, he’d always read Dean better than anyone else in his life, leave Sam.

~*~

“Dean,” Cassie said, softly, garnering his attention from flitting his eyes around to follow Castiel.

“Yeah?” Dean started.

Castiel had spent the past hour clearing Cassie’s room and doing everything else Nathan didn’t have time for. Dean had been incessantly tapping his foot against the linoleum and looking at Castiel.

Cassie laughed. It was a beautiful sound. Dean smiled instantly.

“Honey, you’re worried.”

Dean reddened, looking at his thumbnails. He played with the jagged end of his nail.

“Dean, you know I don’t blame for any of this, right?” she questioned, taking Dean’s hand with effort.

Dean bent forwards to take her hand in both of his. Castiel stilled in his task of clearing away the empty medicine boxes. Dean just stared at her open mouthed. On one part he knew that Cassie wasn’t blaming him, no one was. On the other, he considered it obvious that she was. He had hoped it was the latter. It was easier than the resonant sound of blaming himself.

“I don’t blame you, Dean.” She spoke every word slowly, as if explaining something to a four year old. “You are a good man.” She smiled fondly at him.

Dean swallowed thickly and looked away from the intensity.

“Cas, sweetheart, could you get us a glass of water?” she requested.

Castiel nodded stiffly and walked away.

“He was too uncomfortable,” she murmured, conversationally, smiling at Dean as though they were sharing a huge secret. “Dean Winchester, stop blaming yourself. You carry so much weight. You have to let some things go. It’s not easy but I know you can do it.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “Alright,” he whispers, not trusting his voice to say much.

“When MJ was five, I told her about you. She didn’t get up from the bed until I went and got her. She said the monster under her bed would get her leg. There wasn’t any, I checked. But the day after that, I found her downstairs, sitting all by herself, drawing… You what she said when I asked her whether the monsters were gone? She told me that daddy saved her.”

Dean looked up, his breath hitching. This stung. He should have been there for his daughter.

“Dean,” she cajoled. “I didn’t tell you this to make you feel bad. I told you this because she loved you then. _We_ loved you then.”

“How could you have loved me when you couldn’t find me?” he asked, hoarsely.

“There were times when I hated you so much… The day I found I was pregnant, I broke the cutlery. The next day I called your old number and left an angry message. Mom helped me through it. When MJ turned six, I first found out about the cancer. I was broken. I was scared…” She looked at Dean, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “I dusted myself off and got treatment. It was only a couple of weeks ago that they decided I couldn’t be helped anymore. About loving you… I think it came naturally. I could see you in her. I loved her and I couldn’t imagine her hating you. It wasn’t right. For all I knew, you were dead and how could I teach my child to hate someone she didn’t know.”

Dean flexed his jaw, staring at the ground. “I’m so sorry, Cassie.”

“Dean…” she wheedled, tugging his hand. “Come here and give me a hug, you giant dork.”

His eyes widened as he looked at her but leaned in to hug her. She put everything he couldn’t hear in the hug, stroking his back reassuringly. When they parted, she smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Can you take her with you?” she asked, tilting her head on the pillow.

“I… I am willing to, of course. If-if she wants to. But Cassie… I’m not father material.”

Cassie stared at Dean, raising a single eyebrow. Even with how frail she looked, she was intimidating. “And exactly how many kids have you had in the past eight years, Dean?” she asks, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Two,” he answers with a tight smile. He almost laughs at the way her eyes widen and she stares at him but not intimidating anymore.

“Care to explain?”

~*~

Five hours later, Cassie had finally calmed down enough for Dean to not fret around her with water and her pills at ready. He even thought about mouth to mouth resuscitation at one point but she beat him away, shouting louder. Now, save for the ‘holy shit’s after every ten minutes or so, they were mostly quiet.

“So, you’re telling me that a demon killed your mom and your dad went looking for it, teaching you the art of hunting on the way and then he died against your life and then you died to save your brother. You tortured someone in Hell breaking the first deal? Seal? No! Let me complete! You’ve had your time,” she stopped for a minute, coughing. She waved her hand dismissively at Dean handing her a cup of water. “And then you were resurrected by that cutie next door and he rebelled against Heaven to save you both from becoming the archangels’ vessels. You stopped the apocalypse and no, no, no. It’s just five years. After that, Sam was resurrected without a soul and you lived with some chick and her kid for a year before Sam found you and you guys then saw that angel guy next door, with _our_ child, turn into God. Like who even does that! Oh my God! He’s that ‘sexy dude in a trenchcoat’ from a couple of years ago. Oh my God! I had thought if I’d have told you, you’d have laughed with me. Who knew that was true all along!” She stopped for a while, catching her breath and grinning like an idiot. “And, then he let the leviathans out and died for a while and he comes back, saves Sam from his Satan, God bless me, and then that angel cutie is crazy for a while but you two were in Purgatory? Yeah, Purgatory for a year and then you returned with a vampire but Cas chose to punish himself by staying behind and then you all closed the Gates of Hell and Heaven…”

“Yeah, that’s about it,” Dean said, clearing his throat, uncomfortably.

“Don’t get me wrong but you need help,” she uttered finally, clapping Dean’s shoulder genially as though he had told her about all the college tournaments he had won.

He chuckled, inspite of himself. “I guess I do.”

“Oh, wait, I forgot Emma. Your Wonder Woman child or something…”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, frowning at the floor.

“It was necessary, Dean,” she wheedled, taking his hand. “All of it. It’s hard to digest but I guess I get why we didn’t meet in so many years.” She squeezed his hand.

“I thought about you but I couldn’t put you in danger. I expected you to be married,” he said, smiling slightly at her.

“I almost did… He ran when I got the cancer,” she told him, shrugging her little shoulders.

Dean felt a flare of anger shoot through him. “He’s an asshole,” he growled.

She shrugged again. “I figured.”

They fell silent, Dean stewing in anger and Cassie looking thoughtful. She squeezed his hand tightly whenever he frowned too hard. His forehead instantly cleared out when she did so. The freaky thing was that she didn’t even need to look at him to know.

“You know, you always forget one child,” she started, hesitantly.

Dean frowned. He did the calculation in his head. “Two?” he asked, confused.

“Three,” she answered, shaking her head. When Dean just looked even more befuddled, she smiled at him and tugged him closer by his hand. “You raised your brother, Dean.”

Dean reddened and shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Kids don’t just grow up, Dean. You are the only constant in his life.”

He shook his head again, looking at the floor. “He’s my brother… Even if I did, I raised him wrong. He chugged demon blood for a year and trusted a demon.”

“Oh, Dean,” she murmured, smiling and patting his cheek. “He’s your brother but that doesn’t mean you didn’t raise him and you raised him right. Don’t forget how kind he is. He’s sacrificed so much to save us.” She fell silent but he knew that it wasn’t over yet. She was just waiting for the words to settle. And she was right in doing so; they were reverberating constantly in his mind, drawing all noise out. “So, don’t ever tell me that you aren’t father material. I already know one person who would disagree.”

Dean scuffs his boot against the floor. He doesn’t know what to say to such a confession. He could joke about it or change the topic but he’s sure that Cassie would cuff him on the jaw if he did so. She could pack a punch.

She squeezed his hand, making him look up again into her beautiful brown eyes. She smiled at him. Her eyes were so expressive. It relaxed him instantly. He knew he didn’t have to fill the silence anymore. She didn’t require any explanations or any quips; she just wanted him to know. He was glad.

~*~

Dean’s entire life had been about a monster followed by another. Sometimes the monster was rhetorical and, most often, it wasn’t. He had braved an Apocalypse twice and had lived to tell the tale. If asked, he would still say that his brother sacrificed everything the first time and his angel; the second. Of course, both men had broken the world in the first place (excluding the part where Dean broke the first seal and was practically unapproachable after his brother’s death) but they gave everything to save it. They lost their minds; they lost their lives.

Even when the end seemed nigh, there had always been a way to get out of it. Maybe not always together but in some way. It hurt now that Dean was so helpless. There was no chance of deals with demons or begging the angels. Castiel was drained of his power and there weren’t any miracle healers of particularly good values. Besides, Cassie wouldn’t want that. She would want to go peacefully. Well, as much peace as a cancer patient could get through the pain and the medications.

She had lost five pounds in the week Dean and Castiel had been here. She was eating less and had already talked to each of them in private. Dean hated calling it ‘saying goodbye’. How could he just do that? How could he just give up on a life?

Cassie was an amazing person and an even better mom. MJ adored her. She idolized her mom. The more Dean looked at her, the more he realized that MJ was falling apart under the weight of what she was being put through. And Dean didn’t have the facilities to put his daughter back together. He saw her with Castiel sometimes. The two of them would spend a lot of time together; MJ drawing and Castiel praising. He was good. MJ smiled when Castiel was with her.

He had more faith in Castiel and Sam than he had in himself. It wasn’t new obviously but the reasons were different. Not for the first time, he was glad that Sam and Castiel were in his life.

For the first time in years, Dean acknowledged the wish for his mother to be alive.

Nathan had broken down crying after his talk with Cassie. MJ had shut herself in her room and opened three hours later to take Castiel inside. Dean had spent fifteen hours, hacking the dry grass with a kitchen knife and in general, tending to it. Castiel had been surprised when Cassie had asked for him and came out looking overwhelmed. Angels didn’t cry.

~*~

Cassie stopped eating on a Saturday. She stopped taking fluids on a Sunday. Nathan cried when she refused to eat. She promised she was trying but she couldn’t. Not anymore.

The house was silent for those days, finality ringing in every creak and in every sigh of breath. Dean broke three cups and Castiel bandaged the cuts every time. Nathan spent more and more time at the house, till he was living with them. MJ was silent through the ordeal, curled up on her mother’s side at all hours. Cassie just stared at the ceiling. A happy look would steal over her face sometimes. When asked, she would say that Castiel’s home was beautiful. Castiel would shrink up at the words.

“I hear… Your… Praise,” she rasped with difficulty but the smile on her face was dazzling.

It was the first time Dean had seen Castiel tear up. No tears, but it was close.

Cassie Robinson died on a Thursday. Castiel blessed her after she was buried. The ceremony consisted of four people. They didn’t have the heart to call others. And Nathan promised that he’d take care of it.

It was only on Saturday that they could convince MJ to get up from her mother’s bed and accompany Castiel and Dean to their home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please tell me if you liked it and the pacing.


End file.
